Fearing the Unknown
by Shining Zephyr
Summary: A gruesome, familiar series of murders force the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit to go to Amity Park, Minnesota and examine the supernatural, as well as accept the knowledge that ghosts exist. Some that help, some that harm- and one that holds a serious grudge against Aaron Hotchner.
1. Chapter I: Past Times

**So I guess this is an interlude of things to come. I guess. It's short, it's quick, it's... rather frightening. I think. I hope.**

**Uhm... I guess I'm back with new fandom loves? Enjoy.**

**Takes place before Phantom Planet. After 05x09: 100. So yep. Some people died.**

**I own nothing. I wish I did own Hotch, though. Y'all can take Reid.**

* * *

Chapter I: Past Times

_I have never yet heard of a murderer who was not afraid of a ghost.  
John Philpot Curran_

Amity Park, Minnesota.

Detective Josh Brandt had seen very little in his days with the Amity Park Police Department in terms of murder. Theft, vandalism, obstructions of justice? He dealt with those on an almost-daily basis. Murders were completely different, leaving the entire city reeling in shock for days at a time. Everyone knew everybody, and there was only so much you could really do without someone hearing about it, then spreading the rumor like a wildfire. Simple as that.

People had grudges, sure. That was to be expected.

But grudges were completely different from what horrifying crime scene he had just stepped upon.

It was late. He had a family—wife, two kids, a dog. He'd promised them dinner that night when he got a phone call from the local hospital. The woman on the other end was calm, but it was clear she had been disturbed by something. She said she had gotten a call from a mysterious individual with no name, but an address and only a few words. "_I killed them both. Twenty-seven sixty-four Bear Lake Drive. Victims forty-one and forty-two."_ And that was it. With a heavy heart and a sick stomach, Brandt had decided to take it.

He had called his wife, told her he'd be late because something had come up. Naturally, she was disappointed and told him to take his time.

The minute he entered the crime scene, he wished someone else had taken the call. The couple was lying on the floor with the woman covered in her own blood, the man crumpled against the wall with a single gunshot wound. Brandt had no idea who could have done something this horrible, and he knew he'd have to wait for the crime scene investigators to get there to see how bad the wounds of the young woman were. With a quick look around, he surveyed the area and sighed a little before…

Brandt froze. There was a familiar symbol painted on the window of the house. One he recognized from a certain book he had read about serial killers. His face studied it before he turned to the bodies and saw another note on the other window. One that wasn't there before. "_Deal?"_ His stomach lurched, and he forced himself to take a deep breath before shaking his head.

He knew as well as the rest of the city that ghosts existed. But this? This was insane.

Brandt took out his phone, dialing a number and shaking a little. "Vasquez… you need to see this… …it's bad. Really bad."

* * *

Danny Fenton was under the impression something very bad had happened when he reached his high school that morning.

If the screaming headlines of two murdered teenagers didn't give it away, it was the simple scene of kids huddling together. They looked terrified, hovering over newspapers and pointing to the article and whispering amongst themselves. No one stole a glance at the half-ghost, who walked to class with a strange feeling in his stomach. No one talked to him in the halls, no one bothered even to stuff him in a locker in the football locker room. It didn't bother him too much, but still.

"Danny!"

Turning around, the raven-hared teenager saw his girlfriend running up to him with their other best friend in tow, clutching a newspaper. Sam Manson was pale, and not in a good way. Usually, she wore no make-up and was generally an all-around pale individual. But she looked spooked—like she had seen a ghost in the hallway. That was a regular occurrence, but today was no laughing matter. Sam Manson shoved the paper in his hands and pointed to the article, sniffling. "Did you read this?"

Danny flipped open the paper, Tucker Foley typing furiously on his PDA and speaking in a hushed tone. "Dude, they're saying this is was done by a ghost."

Reading the article, the half-ghost teenager peeked over the top of it to give his best friend a skeptical eye-raise. "A ghost?"

He continued reading to himself, Tucker babbling on and reading off his PDA. "No footprints, no traces of any weapons… they haven't got a clue who did this, but local police are saying it could be a ghost!"

In all his years—three of them—of being the hero of Amity Park, Danny Phantom, he had never met a ghost who could have had the capacity to kill except one. Danny folded the paper back and sighed a little, biting his lip and beginning to walk to class. Sam followed him, frowning softly and tilting her head. "What're you thinking? I can see you've already got some idea about this, and it hasn't even hit the news hard yet."

Danny shook his head, slipping into the back of the classroom and taking a deep breath. He sat down, pulling out the paper and biting his lip as Tucker read something on his monitor. "If this is a—a _ghost,_ I can only think of one with the potential to actually kill someone. And he's holed up in his office at City Hall right now." He shook his head, reading the article more closely now before freezing and scanning the paper once again. "…oh my god…"

Sam sat next to him, peeking over his shoulder. "What?"

"…the people killed…" Danny murmured faintly, leaning back in his chair and feeling a wave of nausea hit him. "I don't…"

Tucker's face was grim. "Yeah, dude. _Them._"

* * *

Quantico, Virginia.

Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer "JJ" Jareau had no idea how the case had made its way to her desk so quickly. Apparently the murders had only happened hours before, but the case must've hit the chief and the city pretty hard. She opened up the envelope, pulling out some picture and scanning them before stopping on one of the crime scene pictures. Her brow furrowed before looking and standing up quickly. She scooped up the files and walked down to the office of her boss, knocking on his door.

"Come in."

She opened the door and griped the file before nodding a small greeting to Unit Chief Agent Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner and presenting him the pictures. "Just received this from Amity Park PD this morning."

He glanced up at her and raised an eyebrow. "Just this morning?"

"A murder of two teenagers in a small home in the city. The detective sent me these pictures this morning. I don't know how it got here so quickly, but… I think it's pretty urgent." JJ nodded to the photos, swallowing and watching his reaction. "I thought you'd like to see it before I made any decisions."

Hotch glanced through the pictures, making no sort of emotional reaction visible to the liaison expert until he reached the final picture. He leaned back in his chair and glanced up at her before nodding softly and standing up quickly. It was obvious something had shaken him about the final portrait, and he held on to the file before grabbing his briefcase and bag. "Get the team ready to go."

"Hotch, this just came in this morning!" she told him worriedly, following him out the door as he made his way downstairs. "What are you…?"

"I'll explain on the jet," he replied tersely, leaving the room.

JJ let out a frustrated sigh, letting a hand swing to her waist as Emily Prentiss stood up with a confused expression. Derek Morgan followed Hotch's departure as well, Spencer Reid absently playing with a Rubix cube and glancing up. "What just happened?" Emily asked quietly.

JJ turned to the others, looking exhausted. "Apparently we're going to Amity Park, Minnesota."

"What's all the way out there?" Morgan asked skeptically.

JJ shook her head, shrugging helplessly. "I'd ask, but I guess the crime scene pictures will explain everything on the plane." She turned to the others, who looked confused. "He thinks _he's_ alive."

That was more than enough to get everyone moving.


	2. Chapter II: Use What You Know

**Oh yipes. I guess you all liked the first chapter. A lot. Why?  
**

**...I am shocked at how many faves and alerts this has already. Honestly. You guys rock.**

**Also, thanks for reviewing **SA Elizabeth, Pichicha123, dragondancer123, Leo112, Soului Panther Moon, Fox Loves Shinigami,MOONLIGHT-97

* * *

Chapter II: Use What You Know

"He didn't go easy on them, whoever this was," Reid mused quietly, gazing at the picture and taking a quick glance at another one. Already high in the air and flying over Ohio into Michigan, the team had been focusing on the scene of the crime for about a good hour or so, give or take some time. "The male was shot in the head, slumped over in the female's pool of blood." He frowned, glancing over the picture and tilting his head. "She must have been stabbed numerous times to lose that much."

Agent David Rossi pursed his lips, sitting on the armrest of one of the chairs, thinking and picking up a picture for himself to give it a quick look before speaking. Being one of the founding members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit—BAU for short—he had a knack for profiling and a sharp wit to match, despite his growing age. "I think it goes without saying that we may be dealing with a copycat here."

Emily sighed, putting down one of the pieces of the file and gestured to the pictures with a sort of helpless wrist flip. "Copycat? I—I don't know, something doesn't feel right about any of this. We don't have very much to go off of in the first place, considering this is the first kill and everything."

"You have a point. But look at the similarities, Prentiss." Morgan picked up one of the pictures, showing her the Eye of Providence painted on the window and shaking his head. "That… is the sign of a copycat. Right down to the blood and where it was located. I mean, they found exactly where the Reaper could have put it when he was in his days of killing people. Somewhere out in the open to be found easily. To show it was him."

The youngest profiler itched his head, the computer screen in front of him coming to life and the image of a woman with black and white hair coming into view. She was leaned forward in her chair, pushing her glasses up and clearing her throat. All eyes turned to her, and Penelope Garcia was one with the group and holding the baton. _"Copycat or whatever, this guy was a real sicko. Just got off the phone with the police over here, and they gave me two names. Dashielle Baxter and Paulina Sanchez, both eighteen years old and attending Casper High School in their senior year."_

Morgan frowned, JJ now quietly reading notes and pursing her lips. "That sounds like an MO if anything. You look at those photos and everything, the girl was covered in blood. Like he enjoyed it—took his tie with her."

"_These kids had their lives ahead of them,"_ Garcia said quietly. "_And they were alone when this happened. I mean, that's just—that's harsh."_

"Garcia, do you think you could pull up anything else on these guys?" Reid inquired. "Anything you get could help us here."

With a slight smile, her fingers were heard tapping the keyboard quickly and efficiently. "_You ask, you receive, my good doctor."_ And with a blink of the screen, she was out.

Dave turned towards the quietest of the group, who was buried in the case file at hand and not participating anything into the discussion at hand. He tilted his head in the profiler's direction, watching his features simply stay put—as if he couldn't get his mind off something. Much like a long while ago on a case that ate him day and night. "You have anything you'd like to contribute?"

Hotch glanced up finally from the paper and pursed his lips for a moment before finally speaking aloud for the first time since the plane took off. "We need to hit the ground running when we get to Minnesota. JJ and Rossi, you guys go down to the police department and set up shop. Morgan and Prentiss, you can go to the high school. Find out anything you can about these kids. Any enemies, anyone who would want to hurt them, anything you can get about them. Reid and I will go to the crime scene, see if we can get in his head."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, considering…?"

"_Reid_," the unit chief warned.

The genius went quiet after this, the team blinking in unison but saying nothing in the process.

* * *

The hallway whispers were nothing out of the ordinary. Generally it was aimed at either Danny and his two best friends… or the latest gossip around the school that involved something seemingly more important to them. But today, there were murmurs of terror. Fear. Anxiety. One of their own had just gotten murdered—cold-blooded deaths of stabbing and gunfire, and no one seemed to notice or maybe even _care._

It wasn't like Paulina Sanchez and Dash Baxter had wonderful reputations preceding them. They were the cheerleader and the football player, the ones who would pick on the other students just for kicks and get away with it. Why? Because they were liked by all the teachers, despite potentially failing grades. A high school drama in the making suddenly stopped in its tracks by a killer seeking either revenge or something more.

"…Danny?"

Danny turned around to his friends, groaning and trekking back to the lockers they had stopped at and dropping his book bag. Sam fished out some papers from a binder and glanced at her best friend worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He smiled tightly, leaning against his locker door and shrugging. "I don't know. How would you feel if suddenly the two people who bullied you all these four years of high school suddenly wound up dead in an apartment that's been seemingly abandoned for a few years? I mean—I'm kinda feeling not so hot right now, if you catch my drift."

The Goth just nodded a little and turned to Tucker, who was frowning and scanning his PDA for anything related to the untimely death of the couple. He hadn't said much of anything for the past hour or so, keeping to himself and reading whatever news came out of it. Unfortunately, this was not saying a lot, seeing as how the entire story had just reared its head that morning. Sam nudged him a little. "Earth to Tucker."

"This is really not appropriate to be showing for all to see…"

"Probably because you're hacking their database," Sam told him flatly, stuffing the paper into her backpack and folding her arms. "Tucker, that's not really the best idea in the middle of school. Especially with all these prying eyes around everything, and us you know? Since you could, oh I don't know. _Get yourself caught."_

The technological genius tossed Sam a dirty look of his own before showing her something on the screen. She opened her mouth, but no noise came out. As if she was sickened by the sight in front of her. She pushed away the device and turned to her backpack, picking it up and walking to her next class without a word to the other two. Confused, Danny looked at Tucker. "What did you show her?"

Tucker grimly handed the ghost hero the image on the screen and started off for his next class as well. Danny looked down at it, rooted on the spot and hand slowly beginning to shake. On the screen, there was a picture of Paulina's mutilated body and her blood spilling on to the floor. Dash was right next to her, shot in the head and crumpled to the floor. They looked to be just… dumped there.

Like he meant absolutely nothing.

Danny's throat clenched up as he struggled to follow his best friend to his next class. He couldn't move, his body not willing to cooperate with him in any regard. No swallowing, shallow breathing, legs completely out of whack and anything just—he couldn't think. The boy literally could not think of what to say to any of this. It was completely crazy, totally…

…god, he was gonna be sick.

He didn't know how he reached his next class in the shape he was in, but he really didn't care. Danny slipped in, grabbing the close seat next to Tucker and shoving him his PDA. "Please don't tell me you spent the last hour of class Photoshopping that into something absolutely terrible of what may have happened to them."

"I wish. If I could Photoshop something that awesome, I would. But my skills aren't that amazing."

"So then… how'd you find this?"

Tucker didn't answer.


	3. Chapter III: Haunting Ground

**I am SO SORRY this is late, guys. I called up the inspiration hotline and ordered a new well of inspiration, and it only got installed today, if you know what I mean. Also, holy toledo. To all of you who are giving this fic a chance? Thank you. So much. I'll do my best to get this finished and amazing and lovely.**

**Thanks so kindly for the reviews **tarheelveteran, MOONLIGHT-97, prophetofgreed, Fox Loves Shinigami, Panther Moon, WolvesAngelz, Leo112, Amazing Bluie

* * *

Chapter III: Haunting Ground

"Dude. Look up."

With a yawn and a soft groan, Danny glanced up from his position at his desk and blinked. Tucker was pointing out the classroom window, where a lot of the other kids were looking as well. Two people were exiting a black sports-utility-vehicle; one an African-American and the other a female Caucasian. From what they could all tell, they were professional, serious, and definitely bent on coming into the school to ask some questions. He felt his stomach plummet several stories and turned around to Sam. "What's going on?"

She shrugged, stealing a glance at the clock. "I don't know. But I hope they realize we're going to be out in about… ten minutes."

As they entered the building, the ghost hero looked around to make sure the others were engulfed in their tests. He was shocked he'd been able to finish it so quickly—but that was probably because he had spent the previous night pulling another all-nighter to get his grade up. He needed this class to graduate, and he was going to pull out all the stops (without cheating, naturally) to make sure he passed. When he made sure with one sweeping gaze, he got up from his chair, walking to the front of the room.

"…Miss Belesky? Bathroom?"

"You finished your test, right?" she asked dryly.

"I—turned it in first."

With a wave of her hand and a look back down at her book, Danny nodded and winked at Sam and Tucker before leaving the room and ducking next to one of the lockers. Four years of hunting ghosts in the middle of school and after such affairs had definitely had its effect on him, and it was obvious as his eyes darted around to ensure no one was watching. A pair of rings split down his frame, and within four seconds, he was no longer human.

He was a ghost.

Danny Phantom immediately became invisible to the human eye, jumping up and flying down the hallway to the main entrance. The two professional individuals were just entering the building as he entered the area undetected. Floating above the two of them, he could here them speaking to one another and examining their surroundings. With a frown, he floated closer to them to try and overhear their conversation.

"So we already know that Dash was _definitely_ the star football player of the school," the woman was saying, looking at the trophies and pictures in the front hallway. "All these pictures show Dash standing in the center of the team, holding that trophy. Like he was their rock and they could always depend on him."

The man frowned slightly and examined one of the pictures for himself, tilting his head and nodding. "He looks like he's thoroughly enjoying his leadership abilities, too. Guy _exudes_ alpha-male personality like no one's business, Prentiss. Take a look at this." He gestured to the most recent picture of the team. "He may be a senior, but his entire outlook on the team remained the same for all four years. Dash knew he was the best."

Prentiss turned around at the sound of heels clicking through the hall and found herself greeting an Asian woman. She held out a hand. "Principal Ishiyama?"

"That would be me," she replied crisply, taking the hand and shaking it.

"I'm Emily Prentiss, and this is Derek Morgan. We're with the FBI, here on the murder of Dash Baxter and Paulina Sanchez." Prentiss's eyes locked with Ishiyama's, who stole a glance at the clock. Ten minutes left of class. "We would like to know if you could help us out with getting to know them better so we can find the person responsible."

High above the unsuspecting trio, Phantom had frozen in place.

_The FBI?_

…this was going to be a problem.

* * *

Oh yeah. This would definitely _not_ be a problem.

It wasn't like he'd picked out his victims and waited for them. He hadn't done it in his past life, and he certainly had no intention of doing it in his new life.

He didn't have a problem that he was in the home of the ghost teenager. Quite literally, he was sitting in the boy wonder's room and taking a look around. Kid was still in high school, and if he was smart, he was actually in class right now. He'd heard a lot about Danny Phantom and his progression from poor soul without a clue who to use his powers… to a formidable force to be reckoned with and a name for himself. While _he _had yet to encounter the teenager, he was confident he probably wouldn't.

For you see, George Foyet was no ordinary ghost. He was a spirit. There was, in fact, a difference.

From how the being understood it, ghosts could be "killed." They could melt into ectoplasmic goo and reformulate into another ghost. They could possibly take on another form if they wanted to, but many chose to be their original selves in the grand scheme of things.

A spirit was a ghost never really laid to rest. Never properly dealt with. They couldn't be seen by anyone other than the person they were haunting or by actually coming into contact with another human being… and letting them live to tell the tale. Very few spirits actually existed in the Ghost Zone—one of them was the ghost of time, Clockwork. The other was apparently a wicked creature by the name of Dark Phantom, Danny Phantom's evil side.

If this Dark character was Phantom's evil self, Foyet made the assumption- correct assumption, as it was- that he was the spirit of a certain man in Quantico, Virginia. He wouldn't be able to become a real ghost until said man had seen him and conquered his fear of past failures—or some other random bullshit that Clockwork guy had told him about.

For the time being, he had to lure Aaron Hotchner to Amity Park. He'd done that really easily. Murder Paulina and Dash and leave behind his signature. Blood, take something, leave something behind; it was the whole nine yards of his former serial killer self.

And now, he had to wait. Wait for some poor, innocent soul to drop by to—

Foyet froze in his train of thought. Someone was close.

He stood up and took a quick glance out the window before grinning to himself and becoming intangible. He floated through the wall and down towards the younger woman walking. She looked to be about Paulina's age, almost her height and build as well. If he pulled out the fact that she was an African American with some killer thighs to boot, she was practically the same. With a lick of his lips, Foyet followed behind her and chuckled lowly; perhaps enough for her to hear that someone was behind her.

The ploy worked. Valerie Gray stopped walking, turning around for a moment and frowning. She could have sworn she heard a laugh, but there wasn't a person behind her. With a slight shrug, she continued to move forward, now looking back ahead and—

"Wonderful day out, isn't it?"

She froze now, staring at the open air in front of her before something materialized out of nothing. Valerie's face went pale as Foyet came into view. He wasn't wearing much of anything right then—perhaps only his sweatshirt for his nighttime moments with the others, but there was nothing else that could truly distinguish him as someone. He fingered his knife and made a slight movement for her. "I've heard of you. The Huntress. Valerie Gray."

The senior finally found her voice, spitting at the spirit killer. "I'm not afraid of you!"

"Oh, but see. That's a problem." Foyet stepped once. "You really should be."

In a moment, she had dropped her book bag and was trying to make a run for the alleyway. The low threat had worked. She was absolutely-

Valerie heard something crack, followed by something slamming into her chest. Pain ripped through her body, and all she could do was gasp. She fell to the concrete, her head hitting the sidewalk and unconsciousness suddenly tried taking a firm hold on her. She didn't know if she was going to die, but she certainly knew she'd never be the same ever again. Being stabbed by a—a ghost?

She could only manage a sentence, blood pooling from the stab wound. "W-What are you…?"

"A lot of people? They call me a ghost," he muttered, rolling her onto her back to gaze at his next victim. "But you? …you can call me the Reaper, sweetheart."


	4. Chapter IV: Treacherous Grounds

**...welcome back to Fearing the Unknown, everyone. I'm terribly sorry this took forever to update. Call it a mash of roleplaying for Criminal Minds, character analyzing and meta, and well- lack of motivation until I finally started watching Danny Phantom again. I'm honestly sorry about leaving this here. Rest assured, it's gonna be slow updating because I have to find my old notes, but I'm gonna be working on this again. **

**Thank you for _all_ the reviews, faves, alerts- all that jazz. You guys are literally the best. Sorry this is so damn short, but- let's ease back into this. If you could leave a review at the end of the chapter, you'd make my weekend. Seriously. Onward?**

* * *

Chapter IV. Treacherous Grounds

The unit chief pulled up to the curb and killed the engine, short of the crime scene tape and getting out of the SUV. Reid followed suit, shutting the door and watching his boss walk up to the cop on duty. "Agent Hotchner, FBI. This is my partner, Doctor Reid," he spoke, nodding to the genius, who gave a little head nod with a small smile. "You don't mind, I hope."

The officer nodded, lifting the tape up for the both of them and walking over to the covered body of Valerie. "Kids found her while playin' outside," he told Hotch, his face wrinkling slightly in disgust. "All bloody and stabbed and such. Paramedics arrived on the scene; poor girl was dead on arrival."

"Any ID?" Reid asked, leaning on his cane and tilting his head as Hotch bent down to get a good look at her.

"Valerie Gray. Goes to Amity Park High. Good kid. Stopped all the ghosts around here and stuff." He looked around and down at the two of them before biting his lip and jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go see if the kids saw anything else. Heard anything." And he was walking over to the side while Hotch continued to stare at the body.

Reid chewed his lower lip, looking at the file his boss had given him in the truck before back at him. "...you caught that, right?"

Hotch glanced up at him for a moment, unblinking. "Ghosts."

"You know, Amity Park is famous for the number of supernatural encounters here within the last three years," the young man explained, lowering the folder as Hotch stood up and took a look around the street. "Especially since that new phenomenon of a ghost called 'Danny Phantom' in the area. They say he has white hair, green eyes, and can disappear in the blink of an eye if you're not watching him. Apparently a lot of the population here think he's a hero in his own right, and some say he's a menace to society."

Hotch almost snorted and stole a glance back at the officer. "Did you notice that he just up and walked away when he mentioned Valerie stopped ghosts?"

Reid shrugged. The officer was on the other side of the tape and talking to the two kids, whose parents were now clinging to them and shielding them from the sight of the body. "What do you suppose that meant?" He looked at the sidewalk and pursed his lips before back at Hotch once more. "You really don't think a ghost did this, do you?"

"If what you said is true, Reid... then I'm not about to rule anything out at this point." The man looked around the vicinity once more with narrowed eyes. "Even if it does have to do with something we have no knowledge whatsoever about."

His companion studied Hotch for a long minute before looking around as well. He wasn't scanning the area so much as trying to figure out what all this could have meant. Girls dropping dead around the Amity Park area in the last seventy two hours. Blood. And... Reid frowned, walking towards one of the apartment homes and knocking on the door. No answer. He turned to the officer behind the tape. "Excuse me!" When the officer glanced up, he nodded to the door. "Does anyone live here?"

"No. Not for years. No one's wanted to since they hear strange noises in there half the time, including the kids. Saying they can hear this weird laugh lately- like it's muffled? But no one's occupied the space for a long time."

"You wouldn't mind if we checked it out?"

The officer shook his head again, and Reid nodded to Hotch. The agent took a hold on the door before turning the knob and realizing it was unlocked. He pushed it open slowly, hand on his weapon holster and looking inside the dark room. Reid then flipped on the light, and he almost regretted it instantly when he saw the floor.

There was a trail of green slime at his feet, like droplets of blood that headed for the downstairs area. Hotch pulled out his gun and turned to Reid. "You stay here and check the upstairs. I'm going to the basement to see where this leads exactly."

Reid nodded quietly, watching Hotch follow the trail into the basement and took another look around the room with a soft sigh. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed a number on the keypad, waiting for an answer.

* * *

Vlad Masters was _extremely displeased._

Three deaths in almost three days, and already the FBI was on top of the entire affair. He would have felt a lot better if _someone _had consulted him about the entire case in the first place, given that this was the work of a ghost. He could already tell. The ectoplasm at the crime scene that the investigators couldn't decipher was plain as day to pinpoint, and that right there... the mayor of the city sighed in exasperation, running fingers through his hair.

Damn government already getting involved, especially in this entire affair. They weren't going to be able to solve this one worth a damn. Their expertice wasn't ghosts. Hell- Vlad knew they hardly ever dealt with ghosts, if at all. Maybe a copycat killer, but nothing like this. He sat there for another couple of minutes before the phone rang. The mayor glanced at the number before pursing his lips and pressing the "answer" button. "Masters."

_"Usually takes you a lot longer to answer the phone, you know," _a smooth voice told him on the other end with a slight chuckle_. "__What made you decide differently this time?"_

Vlad's eyes narrowed as he picked up the phone now and glanced around the room before speaking lowly into the handheld. "You picked a rather bad time to call me, you know."

The other voice couldn't help but slide a bit of a smug tone into the conversation. "_Is that right. What are you doing right now then. Signing off on papers for another deal that you'll make sure comes through?"_

"Nobody asked you what I..." Vlad paused, thinking over those words before a soft growl came in. "...wait a moment. What the hell do you mean by that?"

"_I'll let you think about that," _his companion replied_. "__I know your secret. And if you pull off anything funny, I'll make sure everyone knows. And then I guess there really won't be anywhere for you to hide and keep on going with your little... billionaire escapades, right?"_

Vlad couldn't offer a witty retort, for right when he opened his mouth, the phone hung up on the other end. He hung up in turn and stared out the window of his office and growled dangerously, standing up and walking over to the glass pane to stare outside. He pursed his lips. So. He wanted to play that game now, did he?

If he pulled off anything funny... well. He wouldn't.

Even the hybrid ghost-human mayor of the city knew that playing with the FBI and that man on the phone was a very dangerous idea. Considering Vlad had resources in money- and his caller had something more.


	5. Chapter V: I'm Not Crazy

**Two years is far better than like... seven or eight as far as another crossover is concerned. Even if it is too long, and I certainly apologize for taking a while with this. Really, I do. I got no excuses and no promises, except look at that. I actually updated this with a legitimate chapter and not a hokey "_I'm gonna ditch this fic"_ whine.**

**In the meantime, holy shit guys, so many alerts and favorites and reviews. Sorry I didn't respond to them this go around, but I'll try and do better with that! Just as long as it's not some one-worded thing that gives me nothing to go off of but a "thanks." **

**Writing's _hard._**

* * *

Chapter V: I'm Not Crazy

* * *

It took all but three minutes to go back to class and slink down low into his seat and for Sam to glance over at him before double-taking. Danny ran a hand slowly over his hair with a soft groan and placed his head in his arms. The time remaining was roughly five minutes, and even Tucker had to give Same a questioning glance of his own before gingerly poking his best friend's arm. "Uhm. Danny?"

The teenager shook his head vigorously in the process and made a low noise, Sam going back to her papers and scribling something on a sheet of paper. She nudged Danny with the sheet, and again the only response was a headshake. She looked back to the clock and to Tucker before finishing a final answer on the sheet with a scrawl of writing and rising to her feet to turn the paper in. Tucker followed suit after, and the entire time passed with Danny still head-in-arms.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation was _here_ for Dash's murder?

That could not have meant anything good at all. And even though Danny knew little of the group and what it stood for, he did know that if anyone caught whiff of who... or worse, _what_ he was... then it could spell absolute diaster for him. His parents. _Jazz..._

He was really not okay with any of this.

In the moment he lifted his head, the bell rang and he grabbed his backpack with a shuffle to the door and Sam and Tucker struggling to keep after him. His feet kept moving, shuffling briskly past the female agent now inside Ishiyama's office and the male now keeping an eye on all the students passing in the hall.

'_Just keep walking, Danny,'_ he thought blearily. _'Keep walking, and no one will notice a thing. They won't know. They don't know. They don't care. You're **fine.**'_

* * *

The green substance leading down the stairwell made Hotchner's own run cold. His gun was out and cocked at the ready, and with Reid upstairs making a phone call, he was certain something was terribly off in the deserted home.

The door to the downstairs was barely cracked, and he gently nudged it with a shoulder before pointing his gun into the room with the eyes of a hawk gazing over the area. It wasn't until he turned around in the room that he lowered the weapon with a sigh and took a look around.

It smelled of must and mold, and he wrinkled his nose slightly. Boxes lined the wall, folded and crumpled from months or even _years_ of humidity and water build-up. A pool of green goo was in the corner, and he only caught a glimpse of it before turning back again with his throat tightening.

There was a body. But it wasn't just the body of a random victim.

Hotchner's hand clenched tightly around the gun.

_Her_ body.

But that wasn't _possible._

The unit chief slowly approached it with his gun out and gritting his teeth. She was _dead._ She had _died_ a few months ago, and- how the _hell_ was this-

"Hotch!"

His head turned around with a start before he glanced back-

Only to find the body gone.

Impossible.

"_Hotch!"_

Hotchner found his voice again, albeit a bit shaken. "Down here." He turned around to see the genius slowly descending the steps with a gloved hand groping the railing for life and a grimace on his features. "There's nothing really to see." His voice was now oddly flat. "Just a lot of boxes and some paint splatter. Or- whatever this is. I'm not too sure."

Reid frowned a little with a look around of his own. "Are you sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine."

The look in his eyes clearly spoke contrary to such things, but when Hotchner began to climb the stairs with weapon now holstered, the other did not question him.

* * *

"He's getting more brash," Rossi muttered, lifting the covering from the body and shaking his head at the sight of Gray's lifeless figure. "Look at this. A stab wound count of no less than twenty and blunt force trauma to the head in broad daylight."

Jareau grimaced and folded her arms, watching the crowd only grow in number as seconds passed. This was not going to be a great place to hold a press conference, answer questions. But she was _definitely_ keeping a close eye out each and every person-all her years in profiling taught her a little something, anyway. "Apparently the public already has their own superstitions about this."

Her companion nodded grimly, standing now with a look to the blood pool. "You can only imagine how much _worse_ those rumors are going to get."

A scream pierced the air the moment his mouth closed, and the crowd scattered like schoolchildren in a fire drill. The sound of an explosion hitting the concrete was heard, and Rossi pulled out his weapon on instinct with JJ right behind him. Ducking under the tape, the both of them already had cocked weapons with the liason's phone ringing. She barely had time to slide the screen across. "Jareau!"

"_JJ, we have a problem!"_

"I never would have guessed, Morgan," she snapped back before closing her eyes and a sigh. "Sorry."

"_We're about five minutes from you guys. Hang tight."_

She shoved her phone back in her pocket, Rossi already jumping in the front seat of the Hummer. "You ready?"

Not a chance. But she nodded, shutting the door. "Go."


End file.
